


Breathe

by DryCereal



Series: Off-Stage [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, But it's OK now., Cos I need that, Dropping Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Promise., So did Dan., Supportive Phil, cos he's an angel cinnamon bean bun, i don't like angst, uni - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 19:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14171538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryCereal/pseuds/DryCereal
Summary: Reading Railway Station, Mid-September 2011.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Straighten the spine.  
> Smile for the neighbours.  
> Everything’s fine.  
> Everything’s cool.  
> The standard reply, “Lots of tests, lots of papers.”  
> Smile, wave goodbye, And pray to the sky, oh God…  
> And what will my parents say?  
> Can I go in there and say,  
> “I know that I’m letting you down…”  
> Just breathe…

It’s cold on the station platform, and the chill from the metal bench he’s sitting on has long since seeped through his jeans, but the unseasonal but nonetheless apt weather isn’t the reason he’s frozen to the spot, watching yet another dark green train pull away from the station - the third he could… should have gotten on - if he could only force himself to stand up, get on said train, and complete the final few minutes of his journey.  
  
He just… can’t.  
  
It’s not as if he’s unsure of the decision he’s made, the one he should already be at his parent’s house telling them about. Something that was such a relief to finally have figured out _surely_ can’t be a bad decision, after all.

It’s just that he’s equally sure they won’t see it the same way.

And really, he’s got no one to blame for that but himself. Maybe if he’d clued them in a bit more, instead of holding them at arm’s length, cutting short phone calls, being intentionally vague when pressed about his workload (that he wasn’t managing) and how he was coping (he wasn’t) what future plans he had (none of which involved getting the letters LLB after his name), then maybe...

Well, if nothing else, maybe then he’d at least be able to prise himself off this bench and onto a train.

The only movement he seems able to make is dropping his head into his hands dejectedly, as the train rumbles around a corner and disappears from view.

It’s been over an hour since he’d hurled his sandwich (uneaten, luckily, considering the alternative) after the one bite he’d just about managed to swallow _and_ keep down into a bin, and thrown himself frustratedly down onto the bench.

That same frustration had fuelled a vicious kick at the backpack which, that morning, he’d optimistically packed with a couple changes of clothes. Still though, if things went as badly as he’d envisaged whilst unable to sleep in the early hours of that morning, he’d probably be able to unpack it at his grandparents, rather than having to use it as a pillow on some other station on his way back up to Manchester. Which was the worst possible outcome he’d been able to scare himself into rigid immobility with.

The half sigh, half groan he lets loose doesn’t do much to block out the noise of yet another garbled announcement over the station PA system, but this one doesn’t seem to be for him anyway, so he has time yet to scrape together enough courage to get on the next train.

If not that one, then the one after that.

He had to. The exams he’d not even turned up to, let alone failed had been weeks ago, and here he was, leaving this trip, this conversation to the last possible minute. Term was due to start next week, his parents would be expecting him to be starting his second (third) year at Uni, and although he was fairly sure they didn’t suspect he’d dropped out yet, he was pretty sure they’d realise something was up when they didn’t receive a bill for tuition fees in the next couple of weeks.

It’s not like it could go much worse than the last two times he’d had to give his parents unwelcome news about his academic career. He might be ridiculously bad at procrastinating, but he was going to be honest about his decisions and his current plans for the future, as nebulous as they appeared at the moment.  
  
Still though. They’re plans. And between them, he and Phil are managing to support themselves in every way that matters, and that counts for something. It should, anyway. Dan’s not known for being the most optimistic individual, but although it’s a precarious career plan, things seem to be on the up for people creating popular content on YouTube, and at least if it all comes crashing down around their ears, they’ll manage, however shitty it would be to have to go back to working “proper” jobs.  
  
They’d talked about it. Properly. Together. Like the actual adults they rarely felt like they were. And whilst Phil and his parents had both assured him that should the worst happen that there was room and support for them both, (at the end of the year Phil had been granted to get himself... well, themselves, at that point, if they were being honest sorted out and independent,) they were fiercely determined to strike out and make it on their own on a permanent basis.

Now he felt like he had even more of a point to prove on that score. To everyone, especially himself. And though he was determined to not drag Phil down, and he’d been adamant that this trip was something he wanted - well, in all honesty _needed_ to face alone... well...  
  
He fishes his phone out of his pocket, steadfastly ignoring the messages from his mother he’d received since that morning, asking what time he’d be arriving, and reminding him to phone for a lift when he eventually got there, and opens up a different conversation, quickly typing out four words before quickly blinking away tears gathering in the corner of his eye, threatening to fall.  
  
His phone starts buzzing with an incoming call mere seconds later, and he shakily inhales before answering, cringing when he hears his own voice wobble precariously as he greets the caller.  
  
“Phil, I… I can’t get on the train. I can’t… I don’t want…” he trails off, breathing unsteadily.  
  
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want Dan. You can come home, tell them over the phone instead.”

And _oh_ , that’s **_such_** a tempting idea. Just flee, run back up north to their flat, and tackle this over the phone where he’ll only be able to speak to one person on the phone at a time. 

But he won’t run away from this. If he wants to prove he’s adult enough to make decisions like this about his life, his future, then he needs to be adult enough to explain his reasons to his family. Even if they won’t agree.  
  
“Phil… I have to tell them. I should have alre- “  
  
“Do you want me to come meet you? I can leave now, be there in a couple of hours- “  
  
“No. I don’t want them thinking any of this is to do with you. It’s not your fault, it’s mine, and-”  
  
“I don’t mind. If it helps to have some support whilst you’re telling them, I can help explain how hard the decision was for you, how tough you found Uni, and how well you’ve… how we’ve **both** been doing online…” ****  
  
“Phil, they won’t understand. They won’t care, either. You _know_ they’ve always thought YouTube was some stupid- “  
  
“That doesn’t make it true.”  
  
“I know. It’s just - Uni was something they could understand, and support me doing. Quitting just… It’s not…”  
  
“Dan, this isn’t a bad thing. It’s what’s best for you. Eventually they’ll see that.”  
  
“I hope so.”  
  
“They **will**.” Phil pauses for a few seconds, before tentatively breaking the silence “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want me to come down? You know I don’t mind…?”  
  
And that’s Phil all over, isn’t it? Always so willing to drop everything to deal with whichever of Dan’s problems or crises rears its head, always supportive, nearly-always level-headed and calm, except for when he’s intentionally being silly…  
  
“I know you wouldn’t mind Phil. But I have to do this myself. Love you though. I do.”  
  
“I love you too. Call me after?”  
  
“Mmmm. Will do.”  
  
“Try not to worry. It’ll be okay. Just… call me… after. I love you.”  
  
OK. Gonna go now. Love you.” And with that, safe and confident in the knowledge that even if things do go badly that afternoon, he’ll have someone waiting to commiserate and comfort him, he stands and disconnects the call, scooping up his backpack and stepping towards the platform edge as another train comes into view.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, kudos to all those who write angst/sad fic... You lot must have steely determination. Or I'm just a mess that can't cope(!) :D
> 
> I DON'T LIKE WRITING THEM UNHAPPY, OK?! Just kept telling myself that it's all fine and over now. Nobody wanted sad lawyer canon!Dan anyway. - Right?!
> 
> Piece of free advice from another uni dropout, if anyone reading this has to make similar confessions to parents/family - just rip off the bandaid. And yes, it _does_ help if you have a plan. ;)
> 
> Back to fluffy fluff fluff next time, I promise - but I do still hope you liked it, if you made it this far - feel free to leave a comment, even if it's to yell at me, I know I deserve it! Or via [Twitter](https://twitter.com/DryCerealThief) or [Tumblr](https://drycerealthief.tumblr.com) <3


End file.
